Dips To Crunch

It takes awaiting with patience.
To unpack a fisted punch.
And to repeatedly pull it back.
From a TV or a wall.
More than once.
While sitting to watch,
Supporting followers...
Declare their undying loyalty.
To someone obviously mentally corrupted.
Deceiving to fraud all devotees,
Knowing this dunce...
Has a mind clearly out to lunch.

Few seem to question,
Who selected these dips.
Crunched together behind a podium.
Quick to lie through their mindless lips.
Passing around more sickening fiction.
And expected this nonsense accepted.
With nowhere in public,
To spit out the munching.
Consumed to have believe,
This taste eventually returns benefits.

Who selected these mixed nuts dipped.
Unequipped with intelligence.
Or proven to witness,
Of having competence.
Distanced and far,
From the knowing of using...
What common sense to have is.

Yet prepared they are,
To allow themselves next to be crushed.
And crunched under a bus.
As if unaware they are just dips.
Nothing more and that's it!
Although afraid to admit,
The one they picked to lead them...
Enjoys to see and have them all,
Fall until they crawl.
Begging for a chance,
To have a glance from a dunce.
Who loves nothing more,
Than praise to feed an ego.
While admiring those victimized.
Volunteering themselves as trophies.
Pushed and hung up against a wall.
Reflecting the misfits dips,
Like the others selected and picked!